Its Me. I Am Bitches

It’s me. I am bitches

in the land of gods and monsters, i was an angel

I’d tear holes in my skin, if you wanted to love me intimately

Ache is a shrew residing in my chest. She burrows, she festers, she radiates until her scent intertwines with my organs, until each breath, each beat of my heart is reminiscent of her.

Ache claws at the delicate pink satin surrounding my ribs; she does not care that my blood begins to run.

I howl to an empty room, "Tell me where to put the pain, Tell me where to put the pain, Tell me where to put the pain."

The shrew whispers back, "It will be okay", but she does not tell me how to care for her, nor does she relent.

I met god at a bus stop. She was dragging on her cigarette and sitting on a cold bench. The bench still covered in writings from previous ones. Her mascara was running down her face, her runny nose almost as red as the tip of her cigarette, and her chipped nails scratched open her skin. As she looked at me, I swear I could see the whole world in her eyes, just as it is. Broken and damned. Under her finger nails laid the dirt and in her eyes pooled her tears, forming oceans. I could feel her staring at me and judging me. It was that night I realized, that god is every teenage girl.